The Mutant Games
by The Writress of Many Fandoms
Summary: For the very first Quarter Quell, the tributes chosen will be of a different category. These tributes have certain... Abilities. Some say they aren't even human. Whatever the case, it is bound to make the 25th annual Hunger Games a lot more interesting. Welcome to the Mutant Games. SYOT closed! Look inside and see the wonders!
1. Tribute List

**Time's up! We have reached the deadline! You may be able to convince me to let in one more tribute to replace the ones I made, but only if they're really good! Wow! 21 spots filled! Awesome! Here they are!**

D12 F (Selena Crow): BurningMoon101

D12 M (Ashton Noir): DaughterofApollo7

D11 F (Sparrow Hastings): DaughterofAppollo7

D11 M (Kelvin Corinne): AsguardianGrizzly

D10 F (Ardelia Soon): AbbyCoraby123

D10 M (Truen Meneghini): Queen of Colours

D9 F (Sage Wilson): UltimateMaxmericaShipper

D9 M (Wolf Bates): UltimateMaxmericaShipper

D8 F (Culata Dayvon): Faye177

D8 M (Anthony Williams): ShadowMere28

D7 F (Saphron Callohan): Guest

D7 M (Erik Blackburn): TheWritress002

D6 F (Nelasha Jones): AsguardianGrizzly

D6 M (Brooklyn De'Shawn): Guest

D5 F (Lecity Harcrodden): rosereddreams95

D5 M (Bryan Mendez): TheWritress002

D4 F (Ophelia Shea): Queen of Colours

D4 M (Danan Zacharia): AsguardianGrizzly

D3 F (Dawn Reed): AspiringWriterGirl

D3 M (Olin Wires): AbbyCoraby123

D2 F (Sara Retans): Kkfanatic22

D2 M (Raynen Edson): Krisy45

D1 F (Azalea Bellevue): imshadowhunterdemigoddivergent

D1 M (Aurel Sayer): TheWritress002


	2. District 12: Serena Crow

**The first real chapter is finally up! I will be changing POVs in a weird, chronological way, starting from District 12 and going up to District 1. So here's the first tribute!**

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_**Serena Crow: District 12, age 16**_

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Birds twittered and the early morning sun shone on my eyelids, slowly drawing me from my sleep. I had accepted that I was awake, but was not quite ready to open my eyes yet. For a few moments, I enjoyed the peace of dawn, listening to the sparrow's song, before prying open my eyelids. My blue-green orbs darted around the small, simple bedroom.

My home was District 12, where nobody could afford embellishments. I made a small amount of money by hunting and selling prey, just enough for my two younger brothers and I to live off of.

I could feel myself beginning to doze off again, so sighing, I heaved myself out of bed and crossed the room to my old wooden dresser. I found my old frilly white dress laid atop it. For a moment, I was confused. Why would I have that set out for the morning? Then I remembered. The reaping. Suddenly, the sun didn't seem to shine as bright.

That year was the 25th Annual Hunger Games, which meant the first Quarter Quell. I didn't know what they would do to change it up, but I was sure the tributes to be chosen would not like it.

Reluctantly, I changed into the dress I had picked out the previous night, and ran a brush through my long black hair. As the sun's rays shone upon it, the light revealed a bluish tinge in my locks. I placed the brush back on my dresser and headed out the bedroom door.

I walked into the kitchen, and was not surprised to see that Levi and Marcus, my brothers, were not up yet. They weren't early risers like I was.

That would usually be the time where I would go hunting, but that day I had to get my brothers ready. Although they were still two years younger than the proper reaping age, they were still required to attend the ceremony.

The reaping.

I felt panic well up inside my chest, and I forced it down, taking a few deep breaths.

I didn't need to worry, because I wouldn't get picked. Only three more reapings until I was safe.

My heart rate slowed a bit, but the fear remained. I knew what would calm me down.

I stepped through the battered front door and squinted as the sun momentarily blinded me. Crouching down, I chose a large puddle from the previous night's rain, and held my hands above it.

Slowly, a mist rose from the puddle and gathered below my hands. It floated there as more particles were collected, and formed into a brownish ball about the size of my head. I furrowed my brow. I hadn't known this trick for very long.

Lifting the orb of muddy water to eye level, I eased one hand back, as if pulling a string attached to the liquid. Damp soil floated out from the orb and fell to my feet.

I smiled as all the contamination was slowly drawn from the water. I waited until it was crystal clear before guiding the orb inside the house and letting it drop into a pot.

Finally, I waved my hands over it and watched the liquid quickly come to a boil.

Pouring some oats in the pot, I stirred the contents and shouted, "Levi! Marcus! Breakfast is ready!"

_One... Two... Three... Four..._

I patiently stirred the oatmeal, knowing it would take exactly two minutes before my brothers would emerge. They were always punctual with their late-ness.

By the time the two stumbled out from their bedroom, wearing their finest clothes but still under the fog of sleepiness, the oats had transformed into a steaming goop that I spooned into their bowls.

"It's too hot!" Marcus complained. His brother nodded in agreement, and I waved my hand over their bowls, forming a thin layer of frost over the breakfast.

"Are you two ready?" I asked between mouthfuls. "The reaping starts in ten minutes." It actually started in twenty minutes, but I knew it would take exactly ten minutes longer than anticipated to get there.

I found myself often obsessively checking my watch, my most valuable possession. Luxuries like that were rare in the Seam.

"Serena?" Levi spoke up, a quaver in his voice. "You're not going to get picked, are you?"

I lowered my gaze. I had been avoiding the question all week.

What would I do if I were picked? What would happen to my brothers?

"Don't worry about me," I choked out. "I'm not going anywhere."

I hoped with all my heart that it was true.


	3. District 12: Ashton Noir

**I know, it took forever. I'm not the type who updates very frequently, since I'm writing about 17 fanfictions currently. I also learned that the first quarter quell twist was actually the districts choosing the tributes, so I guess this story is a bit AU. Thanks to Music Rules the World for submitting this tribute!**

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_Ashton Noir: District 12, age 15_

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I loved to run. I loved seeing the world fade into a blur, feeling the wind sweep through my black hair, tasting the frigid morning air as I cut through it.

I could beat anyone in a race, even at what I saw as a slow jog. I could even beat gravity, and could run on the water before I sank through its surface. I could run at the speed of light.

But nobody could know.

Being a mutant meant being an outcast. Peacekeepers saw outcasts as suspicious. Suspicious people were usually rebels.

Rebels were killed.

I saw this logic as twisted. The Capitol was probably paranoid. Afraid.

They should be.

Mutants were dangerous according to the Capitol, so they labeled it as taboo. That's why my parents advised me to tell no one. I listened. I never even told my sister when she was born. It was probably a good idea. Brooke could not keep any secret.

I steered my thoughts away from depressing-land as I steered myself away from the electric fence I was running along. I preferred to remain positive, despite my depressing circumstances.

I dug my heels into the ground, slowing to a sprint. I was approaching the Seam, and couldn't be spotted going at such great speeds.

"Hey, Ash!" A voice that I flew past caused me to skid to a halt. I turned to see Blaze, my best friend, hobbling towards me.

Blaze's legs were permanently damaged after a mine tunnel caved in below her. Since then the only type of walking she could do was with a cane or much assistance, and even then she couldn't go very fast.

I jogged towards her before planting myself in a cloud of dust, grinning. "Happy reaping day!"

"It's not really that happy," she argued. "Twenty-four kids are going to their death today."

"Actually, twenty-three. One is going to a brand-new life of luxury!"

Blaze rolled her eyes, but I could see the hidden smile. I felt a blush creeping to my cheeks as I tried not to lose myself in her bright green irises.

For about a year, I had been steadily developing a crush on the redhead. I continually told myself I would ask her out, before chickening and resolving to do it the next day.

_Today_, I vowed. _Today I'm going to do it._

Blaze was talking again, but I was in my own world, imagining the dream date I had planned in my mind many times over.

_What better time to do it than now?_

For once, I didn't ignore the little voice in my mind. For once it was giving me good advice instead of calling me a freak.

I carefully chose the words I would say.

_As a celebration for not getting picked, 'cause we obviously won't, how about we go out for lunch after this? My treat_. I thought the phrase over and over until I was sure I had it perfect.

"Blaze?" As soon as my friend faced me, my mouth went dry. I had no idea what it was I was going to say.

I would have to wing it.

"What is it, Ashton?" Blaze peered at me curiously.

"I-I was wondering... That is, I'd like to... Er, when we're finished, you know, after the reaping, maybe we could..." Jeez. Why was it so hard? Where was the confident, cheerful Ashton?

"...Could what?" she prompted.

"Could... could... Could go out for food or something?" I forced the last words out, dreading the worst. I could see the decline hovering on her lips. Why did I decide to do this?

"Sure! Sounds good."

Blaze's reply shocked me before relief set in. I somehow managed to stay calm and casually state, "Cool."

"I guess we should head over now."

"Where?" It wasn't lunchtime yet, was it?

"To the reaping... Ashton, did you forget already?"

"Oh! Of course not!" I mentally facepalmed. Why was I such an idiot around my crush? "Yeah, I guess I'm just a bit tired. Early morning!"

"Mmhm," Blaze didn't sound convinced. For the billionth time, I wondered if she felt the same way about me that I did for her.

_I'll ask her at lunch... If I don't chicken out._

Once our blood was drawn, we were herded into our separate columns in the square. I peered over the heads of the other fifteen year-olds, most of them being taller than I, and watched the large screen flicker to life.

President Snow was a fearsome young man, with a full red beard and a deep, commanding voice. The whole crowd was caught in a tense silence as he announced the twist on the 25th Hunger Games.

"As a reminder to the rebels that not even the supernatural is stronger than the Capitol, all the tributes of this year's games will be mutants!"

A murmur swept through the crowd, most relieved. I tensed up, noticing for the first time the small amount of names in the bowl.

_My name is in there. _I may have been good at keeping my secret, but nothing was private before the Capitol.

My fists clenched and unclenched as the escort, Olalla Lehmann, reached into the girls bowl.

She needed no microphone as her loud voice rang across the square.

"Blaze Sparks!"

My eyes widened. She couldn't go in the games! She didn't have a mutation... Did she? I could only stare dumbly as my best friend limped up to the stage, her face white with shock.

"I volunteer!" A shaky voice broke the grim silence. I glanced around, searching for the source.

"Um, I'm not sure if that's allowed. Only mutants can volunteer," stammered Olalla.

"I am a mutant!" A tall girl with blue-black hair shouldered her way through the group of sixteen year-olds, head high in defiance.

Shocked whispers floated around the space, but I wasn't surprised. I had long since guessed that Serena Crow had a mutation.

Even so, I held my breath as an official looked through her file. Could Blaze's life be spared after all?

"Affirmative. Crow is a mutant," said the official.

I let out a sigh of relief. I could have that date after all.

"Now the male tribute... Ashton Noir!"

**Tada. Ashton! I won't actually be doing pre-games chapters for all tributes. It will usually just be one chapter per district. I just made an exception for this one because their stories intertwined and I didn't want to drag on one tribute's chapter. I don't know if that makes sense. Anyway, I hope you liked it! Please review and tell me what you think! **


	4. District 11: Kelvin Corrine

**Well, I meant to update sooner, but it's been a month... I promise, I work on this story quite frequently, but life just tends to get in the way. I'll try to send the next chapter out sooner, but no promises. Anyways, enjoy! Thanks to AsguardianGrizzly for submitting this tribute!**

_Kelvin Corrine: District 11_

_Submitted by AsguardianGrizzly_

"District 11, I give you your tributes for this year's games: Sparrow Hastings and Kelvin Corrine!" Goldie Graner squealed, her hideous metallic curls bouncing.

Kelvin gritted his teeth. Him. A tribute for the Hunger Games. It made his blood boil just thinking about it.

The other tribute had finally managed to stop crying. The poor girl couldn't have been more than 14 years old. She looked fearfully up at Kelvin, her shaking hand outstretched.

Kelvin felt his anger increasing with every moment. He hated everything about the games, and certainly did not want to follow the rules of the Capitol. Even so, he gripped Sparrow's hand and shook.

The girl yelped and leapt back, clutching her palm gingerly. Kelvin realized how hot his hands had become.

Oops.

That was his issue with getting angry.

People could get hurt.

He took a few deep breaths to calm down, and his hands thankfully returned to regular temperature.

Muttering an apology to Sparrow, he allowed the peacekeepers to escort him to the Justice Building. He would play nice, for now. Looking good on camera did not mean he was siding with the Capitol.

After a seemingly endless walk down lavish halls, Kelvin was shoved into a magnificent room, the door slamming shut behind him. He leaned against a red chair with a huge cushion, waiting for his loved ones to arrive. It was only a matter of time.

"Let me in, you bastards!"

_Yep, there she is. _

"Kelvin!" screeched Frankie, barging in and engulfing him in a suffocating embrace. Neither of them were really huggers, but the circumstances called for an exception.

Frankie pulled away, brown eyes glistening with tears. Many people often mistook them for twins, and Kelvin didn't blame them. The two fifteen year-olds shared the same chocolate skin, dark irises, short stature, and personalities. The only difference between them was Frankie's long dark cornrows, making up for Kelvin's lack of hair.

"Kel, I know you're capable if winning," she stated firmly.

Kelvin put his head in his hands. "Yeah, but I'm also quite capable of losing." The reality was catching up to him. He could be a corpse very, very soon.

"No, you're not allowed to think like that!" Frankie forced him to meet her gaze. "Listen to me. You're going to live. Just lay low, avoid the bloodbath, and only kill if you have to. You can do this."

"I..." Kelvin had difficulty forming the right words. For the first time, he wasn't so confident.

"Hey, it's okay!" His friend kept her tone light. "You don't even need a weapon! Just use your power."

Kelvin glanced down at his hands. Being able to heat them up to the melting point of steel wasn't exactly something he was proud of, but he had no issues to talking about it.

"I just... I don't really like doing it," he sighed.

"You have no choice," whispered Frankie, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

"Time's up!" barked a burly peacekeeper, barging into the room. The two managed one more quick hug before they were forcefully separated by the hulking man in white.

Frankie twisted around to face him as she was marched out the door. "You can win! I know you can!"

Only a few moments of silence followed before Kelvin's parents burst in. His mother rushed to his side, wrapping her arms around him with a sob. His father approached more slowly, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder, the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over.

Kelvin felt his own eyes begin to water. He couldn't bear saying goodbye to his parents, his only family, the two people that loved him, nurtured him, and showed infinite support despite his dangerous ability.

Soon the three were a weeping mess huddled on the soft carpet. Kelvin breathed in the scent of peaches around him, the scent that had followed him all his life.

His parents' peach orchard was known all throughout the district for its sweetness, and had taken them all the way to the Capitol to deliver directly to President Snow. Kelvin had masked his hatred for the man well, and his hands had remained normal temperature when he shook the president's.

But Kelvin's fury then was nothing compared to the flood of emotions he felt in the Justice Building. His tears spilled freely now as he sank into the embrace, knowing full well it could be the last time he would ever see his family.

_I'm going to die_, he thought with a flash of panic.

"I have faith in you," his mother whispered, as if reading his mind.

"Mom," Kelvin whispered, not knowing what else to say. He clung to her like he was four years old again and had fallen out of a peach tree.

"You can make it out of there," said his father. "You're a very capable boy, Kelvin."

The room was practically flooded in tears by the time the peacekeeper entered, bringing forth a fresh wave of sobs.

Kelvin's mother screamed and fought so hard reinforcements had to be brought in. His father fought too, but with more of a numbness. Kelvin saw it in his eyes. He was in shock. Or losing hope.

"We have faith in you!" his mother hollered just before the door slammed shut.

Kelvin felt like his heart had just snapped in two. He wanted to cry, but there were no tears left. All that was left was the fear steadily building up inside him.

Twenty-three other people wanted to live. Twenty-three people needed him dead. It was going to be pretty hard to get back home.

**Thanks for reading! I'd really appreciate reviews; they're quite encouraging. It's nice to know someone is reading this. What are your thoughts on Kelvin? Who is your favourite so far? Least favourite? **

**And a special trivia question in honour of Kelvin's district:**

**How did the District 11 tributes of the 74th Hunger Games meet their demise? **

**Correct answer gets virtual cookies and my love!**


	5. District 10: Truen Meneghini

**Back again with another tribute! Shoutout to UltimateMaxmericaShipper and Guest for correctly answering the trivia, and Queen of Colours for submitting Truen!**

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Truen Meneghini: District 10

Submitted by Queen of Colours

_ I don't want to be here._

The thought played over and over in Truen's mind. There was absolutely nothing worse to him than being in the games.

Ever since his name was called, the fear pulsating through him had only gotten stronger. It was all he could do to attempt to ignore it and focus on other things. His district partner, for example.

Ardelia Soon was a tiny girl, probably about twelve. Her dark brown hair flowed past her shoulders, and her hazel eyes darted nervously around the room.

Truen noticed her hands were shaking. The poor girl was probably more scared than he was.

He decided to attempt to lighten the mood. "Well, what do you say we look at the recaps?"

Ardelia jumped, as if she had forgotten her district partner was present. "Oh, uh, s-sure."

Truen felt bad for her, but didn't say anything else. All she needed was a distraction. He grabbed the remote laying next to him, and pushed a button. The empty wall across from the seats flickered to life, revealing a man with blue skin and white hair sitting on a couch.

"Capitol fashion is so ridiculous," he sighed, rubbing his eyes. Ardelia on the other hand was paying close attention to what the man was saying. Truen tuned in in time to hear the Capitolite speak.

"And now lets switch over to District One to see the first tributes!"

The scene changed to a crowded square covered in decorations. A man that looked like a purple toothpick was drawing a name from the boys' bowl.

"Adil Hambleton!" It wasn't until the reaped boy had made it to the stage that a skinny blonde boy volunteered.

"Aurel Sayer," he said clearly into the microphone.

"He doesn't really look like a career," commented Ardelia quietly.

"Only mutants can volunteer," Truen reminded her. "Most likely the boy who planned to wasn't allowed."

The escort didn't even get the chance to read the next name before a small girl ran up to the stage, grinning. "Azalea Belevue here, volunteering as tribute!"

Truen could hardly believe it. Volunteers were rarely so young. He was beginning to get optimistic about his chances against the career pack.

_Don't get your hopes up just yet,_ he warned himself. _That's only one district. _

District Two's volunteers were a confident girl who proudly showed off the flame in her palm, and a tall boy who flashed a charming smile at the cameras.

When the girl from District Three's name was called, there were a few screams in the crowd, but order remained. The boy, however, didn't stay on the stage for long before a volunteer took his place.

"That's odd," murmured Ardelia, voicing Truen's thoughts. Three rarely got volunteers.

The screen switched over to District Four.

"Fret Zacharia!" called the escort. A brief scuffle broke out somewhere in the throng before a voice called out, "I volunteer!"

"Danan Zacharia," the boy said shakily.

_He volunteered for his brother_, Truen realized. He wondered if the boy would join the careers.

"I'm Antheia Ruskin," said the girl volunteer, "Your next victor."

The two tributes were about to shake hands when an official studying a hologram spoke up.

"She can't; she's not a mutant!"

A murmur rose up from the crowd, but Antheia objected. "Y-yes I am!"

"Alright then, 'Theia, lets see your powers!" someone in the front row laughed.

"I... Uh..." The girl looked looked distraught.

"Take her away," ordered the escort with a disgusted look on her face.

"I'll volunteer, then," someone from the crowd announced.

"What's your name?" The Capitol woman questioned wearily.

"Ophelia Shea."

The official fiddled with his hologram, probably looking at the new volunteer's files, before nodding. "Come to the stage, Ophelia."

Truen almost felt bad for the other volunteer whose dreams were dashed, but then he remembered that her dreams involved killing children. He would never understand careers.

District Five's tributes were a shocked boy and a girl that barely looked human. She was scrawny and her arms had some sort of blade attached to them. Her teeth were sharp and fang-like, and her nails looked more like claws. Truen noticed Ardelia averting her gaze. He didn't blame her.

In District Six, someone else volunteered. Truen was growing concerned at the amount of possible careers. Seeing the girl who spoke up didn't help his nerves. She looked eager, too eager. She had a creepy grin fixed on her face that revealed long, pointed fangs. Her expression stayed the same as she shook the reaped boy's hand. Truen could tell he was trying to act calm, but was quite intimidated.

Truen stared in disbelief as the girl from District Seven was replaced by yet another volunteer. She looked mildly frightened, yet determined as she grasped her shocked district partner's hand and shook.

"Are you kidding?" He finally burst out when a boy in District Eight volunteered. He turned to Ardelia for support, but found her attention on the female.

"Odd," she murmured. "She looked scared a moment ago."

The girl reaped was indeed looking quite confident, a smirk planted on her face as she gazed into the crowd.

After one more volunteer, the girl from District Nine, it was time for Truen's district.

He was impressed at how calm he had looked on the outside, for he knew exactly what he was thinking on the inside. A whole lot of not-so-pleasant words he wouldn't want to say in front of Ardelia. He was once again overwhelmed with sympathy for the girl as he watched for the second time her face crumple into tears as her name was called.

District Eleven reaped another crying young girl, and a very angry-looking boy. Truen noticed a glow in Kelvin Corrine's hands, and figured that was his mutation.

In District Twelve, another volunteer brought a bit of confusion to the officials, and to Truen.

_Why? Why?_ All he could do was shake his head. The boy reaped was sweating visibly, and looked like he was about to scream. Before Truen could find out if he would, however, the screen had switched back to the Capitol host.

"Well, that concludes the reaping, and how exciting was that! Let's-"

Truen had turned off the broadcast before the man could finish his sentence.

"Twelve," Ardelia whispered, staring at the blank wall.

"Hm?"

"Twelve volunteers. Half the tributes."

"Oh." Truen hadn't realized there were that many.

_ Half the tributes. Oh, jeez. _

_ This will be harder than I thought._

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**Twelve volunteers! Crazy, right? Anyway, I'd love it if you reviewed, so what are your thoughts on Truen, Ardelia, and the other mentioned tributes? Oh, and I just recently posted a story to FictionPress, so it would be awesome if you checked that out. There's a link on my profile. Love you all! Bye!**


	6. District 9: Sage Wilson

**Here we are again, with District 9! I'm sorry this took so long; in my defence, it is the longest chapter so far. Thanks so much to UltimateMaxmericaShipper for submitting both Sage and Wolf!**

_Sage Wilson: District 9_

_Submitted by UltimateMaxmericaShipper_

_The Capitol has good food, I'll give them that. _

Sage had already scarfed down her second helping of omelettes by the time her district partner stumbled out of his car.

Wolf's brown hair was sprouting in every direction, and his red silky pyjamas hung off his small frame, but he still slid into the seat across from Sage with a smoothness that was just irritating for someone his age.

"Sage, right? Nice name. Nice everything, really." The way he was looking her up and down made her fists clench under the table. "I think we'll get along just fine."

"Wolf Bents," greeted Sage icily. "It's a real pleasure." She didn't mean it, of course, and judging by the crestfallen expression behind his cheeky grin, her district partner realized that.

Yes, she was pretty, with her long red tresses, gold-green eyes, and petite form, but that didn't mean she let people get away with flirting. Sage dealt with enough crap at home; she didn't need some scrawny fourteen year-old hitting on her when she had to focus on the games.

_Then I'll be free,_ she thought, hope swelling within her at the thought of never seeing her father again. Winning was preferable, of course, but then again, death would be a viable escape as well.

_Coming back a victor would mean being my own person. I wouldn't have to live with Father, I wouldn't have to marry some ancient peacekeeper, I wouldn't have to be banned from making friends, I wouldn't be owned. I could be happy._

Sage shook her head to clear such cheerful thoughts, reminding herself to take life one step at a time. Happiness was a long way away, and she would have to go to hell and back to reach it.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Wolf questioned, leaning over the table.

_Oh, just how to kill you,_ Sage was tempted to say, but before she could open her mouth, the escort strolled in.

"Ah, children, how are we enjoying our meal?" Placido Patton spread his fat arms open wide, as if expecting a hug.

"Delicious," Wolf replied, shovelling some sort of delicacy down his throat.

"And Sage?" he turned to her, smiling pleasantly.

She met his gaze. "I'm just wondering why you bother fattening us when we could starve to death in a week."

Placido looked more uncomfortable with that, but was saved from responding by the mentor entering the car.

At age sixteen Tihana Jelen won the 17th Hunger Games, the year of the wintery arena. Those games were known was being the least eventful, with most of the tributes slowly dying of hypothermia. Tihana had managed to survive the longest, and the Capitol had removed any trace of frostbite from her fair skin.

Sage liked Tihana so far; she was kind and understanding, not drunk or vicious or detached like mentors were rumoured to be. She seemed to genuinely want one of them to win.

"Morning, Sage, Wolf... Placido." Tihana didn't seem to like the escort, making her that much more relatable to Sage.

_ I mean, he's okay, just too... Pleasant. He doesn't seem to notice the life or death situation right in his face. _

"I've got a question, Ti," said Wolf around his breakfast.

"Shoot," she responded, pouring herself a large cup of coffee.

"How do I get to the next level in the Hunger Games?"

Tihana looked confused. "The next level?"

"Yeah; it's a game, isn't it? There must be levels." Wolf smirked, awaiting an answer to his highly intellectual question.

"I think you pass a level if you're still alive." Sage chimed in. Wolf didn't look satisfied with the answer, but proud that he got the pretty girl to talk to her.

_Why did I get stuck with this kid?_

"So, you two are mutants, aren't you?" Placido looked at the tributes inquisitively. Sage sighed. Now that the secret was out, she would be treated like a bug under a microscope.

"Yup," said Wolf, obviously not ashamed of whatever he had been cursed with.

"What can you do?"

"Oh, you'll love it, Tihana!" Sage's district partner practically jumped with joy. "My mutation is... Drumroll please... Animation!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Sage's impoliteness caused Placido to frown. _Oops. That wasn't meant to be out loud. _

"I'll show you!" exclaimed Wolf, not seeming to mind. He grabbed the salt shaker off the table and clutched it tightly to himself. Closing his eyes, he appeared in deep concentration for a moment, before he set it back down.

Sage didn't see a difference. "What, did you turn it to sugar or something?"

"Watch!" Wolf pointed at the shaker, which was beginning to wiggle. It writhed more violently until it was bouncing all over the table.

"Oh dear," murmured Placido.

Finally the shaker fell on its side, laying still for a moment. Sage stared at it, waiting for something to happen. Unless Wolf was bluffing.

She was about to make a sarcastic remark about how amazing his mutation was, when the salt shaker somehow stood, and opened a mouth that wasn't there before.

"What? Why's everyone staring at me?" the shaker questioned in a high-pitched voice.

Wolf grinned proudly. Tihana let out a cry of surprise, and Placido stumbled out of the car, face white. Sage however burst out laughing.

"_Hey!_" the shaker somehow looked offended.

"Chill, Salty," said Wolf casually. "Making a girl laugh is a great thing."

Sage rolled her eyes, embarrassed that she had let it slip out. She definitely wasn't a giggly girl, and didn't want her district partner to believe he could have a chance with her if he played the comedian. But animation was by far the most ridiculous mutation she had ever seen. She could only imagine Wolf's house filled with talking furniture.

"Imma' take a stroll," said the shaker, hopping off the table.

"Incredible," breathed Tihana, "You can make inanimate objects come to life?"

"Yep," Wolf grinned, "I haven't quite figured out how to change them back, though."

"This could really be to your advantage," she continued. "You could get weapons to fight for you!"

"Woah, woah, slow down! It's not like I can control them, and I think I'll be staying away from the fighting. In fact..." he turned to Sage. "I was kinda thinking about an alliance, you know, just the two of us..."

"No." Sage didn't need any other words for a flat-out refusal.

"Are you sure? It would improve your chances," offered Tihana.

"My chances are just fine; I don't need Mr. Bates and his condiment friends weighing me down."

"Harsh," muttered Wolf, but perked up again. "Alright, I'll take that as a maybe. So, what's your mutation?"

"None of your business," she snapped.

"You know you'll have to tell eventually," said Tihana gently.

"Yeah, it's not like it's a secret anymore," added Wolf. "Soon all of Panem will know!"

Sage gritted her teeth. "Not helping."

"We could strategize. I'm sure there's a way you can use it." The escort put a hand on her shoulder, which Sage jerked away from.

"I don't need your help."

"Let's play truth or dare!" Wolf piped up. "Sage, you can start! Truth or dare? Truth? Okay! What is your... Mutation?"

"Will you just shut up?" she finally exclaimed. A bolt of lightning whitewashed the car, thunder following a moment later.

_Shit. _

"That storm blew in fast," murmured Tihana.

Wolf must have seen Sage's stricken expression, as his face lit up in realization. "That's your mutation, isn't it? Your emotions affect the weather!"

Sage didn't respond, which was all the answer he needed.

"I'm such a genius!"

Another bolt of lightning.

"W-well, do you mind calming the storm? If the train got struck by lightning..." Tihana trailed off, staring out the window with wide eyes.

"I can't control it!" Sage exclaimed. "If you want me to calm down, maybe stay the hell away from me!"

A gust of wind shook the car, and her mentor fled out the door without another word.

Wolf lingered at the table, looking uncertain. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Get out!" she practically roared in response. The boom of thunder seemed to convince him, and then Sage was alone in the meal car.

The storm died down a bit, but the howling wind still filled the silent vehicle.

_You're a monster,_ it seemed to taunt. _As good as dead. _

"No," Sage muttered. _No. I'll be free. _

She laid down on the cushioned seats, repeating those words.

_I'll be free. _

It was a lullaby of hope, and her eyes slowly began to drift closed.

_ I'll be free. _

_ Soon. _

**I must say, this chapter was very fun to write. Tribute interaction is the best! Please review and tell me what you thought of it! I mean, two people reviewed the last chapter. Two. Hats off to those faithful reviewers; you know who you are. So what do you think of Sage, Wolf, Tihana and Placido? Who's your favourite so far? Your least favourite? Did you spot any typos? Oh, and I'm thinking about switching this story to first-person. I would edit all the chapters to match. Should I? Let me know in the reviews! Wow, this was a long author's note. Thanks so much for reading!**


	7. District 8: Anthony Williams

**I would like to thank everyone for the immense amounts of support they have given me. It's because if your encouragement that I have decided to continue this story as is. Oh, and it is now first-person, because I like it better. Thanks to ShadowMere28 for submitting this tribut!**

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_Anthony Williams: District 8, Age 17_

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"It's finished!"

"Doesn't he look darling?"

"Oh, they're going to love you!"

"Sponsor material!"

"Do you like it, Anthony?"

"He hasn't seen it yet! Let's take him to a mirror!"

"The biggest mirror we have!"

My three stylists herded me through a curtained doorway into a spacious room, containing a giant floor-to-ceiling mirror.

"And now," said the one with blue hair, "we proudly present... Your chariot costume!"

It only took me a second to take in the full monstrosity of what was supposed to represent my district. I was draped in layers of green yarn, wrapped tightly around my torso and hanging loosely off my arms. Behind my head the yarn was straight and stiff, sticking out like an overenthusiastic collar.

"We decided green was your colour," said the scarily thin one.

"Do you like it?" questioned the short pink one.

I most definitely didn't, but I figured that would be mean to say. Then again, I had just volunteered to fight to the death with a bunch of kids.

Even still, the words that came out of my mouth were, "The makeup is nice."

Sure, they might have gone a bit overboard on the green eyeliner, but the contouring gave my face an older, more fearsome look.

I was once again struck with the sheer reality of what I had to do.

_You don't have a choice_, I thought, the image of my uncle standing over my brother's mangled corpse flashing through my mind.

I shook my head to try to clear it, instead struggling to remember my stylists' names. None came to mind; they were probably all ridiculously long Capitol names. Blue, Toothpick, and Pig would have to do.

"Off you go; we don't want to be late!" said Blue.

"Are you sure we're not forgetting anything?" Pig—Alright, maybe that wasn't the most flattering nickname—questioned.

"No time!" shrieked Toothpick. "We've only got a few minutes!"

"Wait, it's not starting for another half hour!" protested Pig.

"Yes, but being early is much better than tardiness!"

Before any final touches could be made, Toothpick ushered us into the elevator. As the doors were closing, a frantic voice called, "Hold! Hold, please!"

My district partner and her chattering stylists hurried up to the elevator, cramming inside. I ended up squashed between Blue and a different stylist, a tall man with stripes all over his body. He seemed to be proud of whatever he was supposed to be wearing, but all I could focus on was his jacket's horridly impractical spikes digging into my side and the overpowering scent of makeup in the air.

Thankfully, Capitol elevators were speedy, and only moments later the doors opened and I was allowed to breathe. Culata's stylists immediately stepped out and began circling her like vultures, no doubt adding extra last-minute details.

My stylists lingered in the elevator, smiling like proud mothers.

"Go be amazing!" called Blue.

"Knock 'em dead!" said Pig. I winced. Probably not the best choice of words. She seemed to realize that and struggled to correct herself. "That is... Er..."

"Good luck!" Toothpick cut in, and quickly pressed a button. The elevator doors closed and they zipped away, making a speedy exit from an awkward situation.

Meanwhile, Culata's stylists had stepped back to admire their handiwork, and I finally got a good look at my district partner's costume.

It was similar to mine, made entirely of different shades of green yarn, but wrapped tightly around her body as a sleeveless dress, flaring out slightly at the bottom. A few forest green strings crisscrossed over her arms. A ball of mint yarn was tucked into her black hair, which had been transformed from a few thin strands into a luscious pile of curls on the top of her head. For once Culata didn't look hunched and fearful; her back was straight and I could have sworn I saw a ghost of a smile on her face.

I stepped forward, lingering among the group of fawning stylists. "I must say, I'm a bit jealous. You definitely look better than me."

She jumped, as if shocked that I had spoken to her. "Oh, uh, thanks." Her blue eyes flitted to the ground.

I felt bad for her, and once again wondered what had happened that had made her so shy. I opened my mouth to say something else, but the elevator doors opened with a ding and I turned to see who had entered.

"What the hell?" I murmured. Out from the elevator walked—more like hopped—two spools of thread, chattering in excitement. I turned to Culata, hoping she had some idea of what was happening, but she had already shuffled away to the District Eight chariot. Sighing, I began to follow, only to find my ankles tied together. I stumbled, almost faceplanting but catching myself on my hands and knees. A snicker caused me to twist around.

"We got him good!" giggled a yellow spool. The silver one jumped up and the two did something resembling a chest bump.

"Hey!" I protested.

The silver spool whirled around with a smirk on its thread face. "Having issues, buddy?" It hopped up, smacking my nose before hurrying away with a laugh.

Grumbling under my breath, I got into a position that allowed me to reach my ankles. These were the times that my mutation came in handy. With only a bit of focus, my index finger had turned into a small knife and I was able to cut myself loose.

"You okay?" a voice caused me to look up from my work.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine." I hoisted myself up and met the gaze of a kid wearing a gold and silver outfit that resembled a wheat field. District Nine, then.

"I'm Wolf Bates." He stuck out his hand.

I made sure my finger was back to normal before shaking. "Anthony Williams. What the hell were those?"

"Oh... Yeah. About that." Wolf chuckled awkwardly, running his hand through his brown hair. "That would be my mutation."

"You have little spools of thread that follow you everywhere?"

"No, I can bring objects to life! I call it..." he paused dramatically. "Animation!"

"I see." I decided it was time to end the conversation. I did not want to get close to people I would have to kill. Fortunately, a squeal from another tribute ended it for me. We both turned to see the spools attacking a younger girl wearing what appeared to be orange peels. Most likely Eleven.

"Aaaaand that's my cue to go rescue someone else! See ya!" Wolf raced off to reprimand his thread minions, and I couldn't help but laugh. The whole situation was ridiculous.

I headed back towards the Eight chariot, scanning the area for my district partner. I was blocked by five or six people exiting the elevator, and I couldn't help but watch what went down next.

The group was probably the Careers, judging by their costumes. The boy from Two was shouting at the boy from Four.

"Is that how you want to play, Danan?" he gave the Four boy a little shove. "Because believe me, nobody wants to make an enemy of Raynen."

Danan didn't look fazed. "I've made myself clear," he said calmly. "My mind won't be changed."

I leaned in. What had Danan done to make the Two boy—Raynen— so mad?

"You really want this?" he practically screamed. "'Cause I'll make sure you're the first to die!"

Other tributes seemed to pick up on the commotion, and a small crowd was drawn.

"Even if you could manage that," spat Danan, looking a little pissed, "it wouldn't make it worth it to be in your shitty alliance."

Raynen's face reddened. He pulled his arm back, his large muscles bulging, and punched the Four boy in the face.

Danan didn't move. His attacker, however, grunted, clutching his knuckles in an obvious attempt to hide his pain.

That piqued my curiosity. From my angle, I couldn't see Danan's face. I shifted my position until I could see the spot where Raynen's fist had connected.

Encrusted on the Four tribute's face was what appeared to be some sort of black, shiny stone. Danan showed no signs of pain, and I realized the stone was some sort of self-generated armour.

I made a note not to mess with this boy.

Meanwhile, Raynen had stormed off, three other careers following. His district partner, however, went the opposite direction, approaching me.

_Wait, what?_

She held out a hand with a surprisingly friendly smile. "Hey. Anthony, right? I'm Sera."

I accepted the handshake after a moment's hesitation. Weren't Careers supposed to be mean and ruthless?

"I've heard about you," Sera babbled on. "Your uncle won the 10th Hunger Games, didn't he? And your father made it pretty far in the 7th!"

I flinched. It was these damn games that caused me to never know my father.

Sera continued, unaware of my discomfort. "And your cousin, he just won the 23rd Games, right? Yes, many victors have come from the Williams family." She said it as if that was supposed to have some sort of special meaning to me.

_Yes, I know. I want to win the Hunger Games. I've trained for it all my life. Big deal. Isn't that what you Careers do, too?_

_ Oh. _

Was I really a Career? Eight didn't really seem like a victor district, but my family strived to change that. But Careers wanted to do this, right? I was forced into it.

I was not heartless.

"I was thinking you'd be big asset to our alliance," Sera stated.

I stared at her, my mouth hanging open.

Join the Careers? But...

I recalled the bitterness in my mother's voice as she told me that the Careers killed my father. I would later watch reruns and see that for myself.

That was all I had left of my father. The knowledge that if it weren't for the Ones, Twos, and Fours, I might have been able to meet James Williams.

"Since Danan is... Not with us, we'd be stronger with another member. What do you think?" Sera smiled at me, as if she hadn't just ask me to betray my whole bloodline.

_Unless..._

I had seen it many times before. A nondescript, run-of-the-mill Career, without warning backstabbing their allies, leaving themselves as the victor. That was why I wasn't planning on having allies.

Until the feeling rose up inside of me, the burning desire for vengeance.

"I'll let you think about it. For now, we'd better get to our chariots. See you in training." Sera waved goodbye, jogging off to join Raynen in the Two chariot. She had no idea I was beginning to plot her death.

I walked over to my own chariot, my head spinning with new ideas.

I wasn't exactly a traitor type. But what exactly would it take to survive?

I would do it. I would join the Careers.

For my father.

**Once again, thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any reviews, no matter how small, so lay them on me! I will try to get the next chapter out sooner. Oh, and did I mention I made a forum for this fic? There's a link on my profile. See you next time!**


	8. District 7: Saphron Callohan

**Yaaayyyy! Early updates! The reason this is early is because I wanted to get another chapter out before my giant road trip. So I'll be gone about a month with minimal wifi. In the meantime, enjoy this chapter! Thanks to Guest, whoever you may be, for submitting this tribute!**

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_Saphron Callohan, age 17, District 7_

* * *

I had never understood the cheering.

The Capitol hated us, right? Then why would they squeal in happiness when the announcer proclaimed we would be out in one minute? Why weren't they booing? Why weren't they throwing stuff in our direction?

I asked Erik his opinion on the matter. Of course, I had to shout over all the noise. He turned to me, his face white even under all his makeup.

"They're happy because..." I couldn't catch the rest. His voice was very hard to hear, especially since he had barely spoken above a mutter as soon as he was reaped. That was odd, considering how talkative he used to be.

"WHAT?" I shouted. "SPEAK UP!"

He brought his lips to my ear, probably getting foundation in my hair, but who even cares? "Because we're going to o-our deaths."

_Oh. _

_ Right. _

I always kinda forgot about the dying part of the Hunger Games. When I volunteered, all I thought about was winning. The prize money was most important. I could finally get my brother a cure that worked.

But if I didn't come back...

Yes, this had crossed my mind before. But I had always pushed it out of my brain, telling myself, _You just have to win. For Oliver. _

But really, was a joining death match the best way to help out?

The lurch of the Seven chariot beginning to move jolted me out if my doubts.

_One step at a time, Saphron._

Somehow the cheering intensified as the One chariot emerged.

"Loud, huh?" I tried to say, but even I couldn't hear my voice. Erik gave no indication that he had noticed, only staring forward with wide eyes.

The Fives had already made it out, then the Sixes, then I squinted as the world brightened around me.

I figured I might go deaf.

I wanted to look around, but it was quite windy and my blonde hair—my stylist insisted that it should be in ringlets—was whipping all over my face. I peeled a strand off my tongue.

_Yep, that's me. Sponsors come running. _

The chariots gathered in a semicircle around the president and he made some speech.

"Representing your District in these Games is a great honour," he was saying.

"Oh, yeah," I muttered. "A great honour. Hey, Erik, why don't you tell Mr. Snow up there how honoured you are to be killed?"

Erik flinched. Perhaps I had gone too far. He had never really struck me as the sensitive type; nobody who hung around Naomi ever was. They were a cute couple, short-lived as it was, but Erik had always remained friendly and energetic. The reaping had changed him somehow.

Another wave of eardrum-rupturing cheering interrupted my musing. With an unsteady lurch our chariot turned and headed back to the stables, passing the masses of Capitol people.

_Fuck you, and you, and you, and you..._ I thought, my steely brown gaze resting on each overexcited Capitolite. Alright, maybe chocolate brown wasn't the most intimidating eye colour, but a good glare can still get the message across.

We reentered the stables and finally the cheering subsided. I hopped out, stretching my jostled limbs. My ears' ringing filled my head as soon as I noticed it, but I put my thoughts elsewhere, turning to the two beautiful grey speckled horses attached to the chariot. I sang a short, sharp note and both turned towards me.

"Hello," I murmured. One neighed in response. Both tugged at their reins, struggling to come closer to me.

You could say I had a talent with my voice. I could call upon animals, stun people with my scream, or even kill them. Well, I could kill rats, at least. I had never tried it on a real human being.

_Soon you'll have the chance,_ my depressing brain told me.

I took a step closer to the horses, scratching the nearest one and easily finding that sweet spot, this one was below the left ear. The other one snorted in protest.

"Jealous, are you?" I chuckled, patting his neck. The nice thing about animals was that they showed if they trusted you. With humans, well, you could never know if they were going to backstab you or not. I decided I would probably stick with animals as my allies.

"That's right, who needs people?" I muttered, half to myself. I may have had lots of friends back in Seven, but the Hunger Games required a whole new mindset.

I wasn't stupid. I had seen many Games in my life. People who tried to stay themselves were killed. People who had hearts were killed. In the end it was always the cold ones who emerged, whether they had gone in that way or had been battle-hardened. I had taken mental notes for many years, storing up knowledge in case of a situation like this. It was kill or be killed. I would come out a murderer, or come out a corpse.

"Hey!" A voice behind me caused me to jump.

"Must you people always interrupt me when I'm deep in thought?" I sighed jokingly, turning around.

"Are you coming in or not?" A boy whose costume screamed District Eleven was holding open the elevator door open, frowning impatiently. I gave the horses one final pat before cramming myself into the elevator, filled with at least ten kids.

"Nice to get cozy with our fellow tributes," I muttered.

"What fun," deadpanned a girl wedged in front me with an equal amount of sarcasm.

I winced as something sharp dug itself into my left side. "Watch it, will you?" I grunted in the general direction, batting at the offending object, probably a costume piece. The girl attached to it jumped back, staring at me with fearful, guilty eyes.

In a flash I recognized her from the recaps, matching her costume to District Five. She looked even more freaky in person, frail and malnourished, like if I poked her she would collapse. Her teeth and nails looked sharp, and the thing that was poking me was not part of her costume. It was a blade, sticking out from her forearm and jabbing a different boy, who shoved her away with an annoyed growl. Just then the elevator arrived at the fifth floor, and the girl stepped out without a word.

The next stop was floor Seven, and I grabbed Erik's arm and squeezed out. "I hate to leave such an enlightening conversation, but this is my stop." The doors closed on grim faces, nobody reacting to my antics.

"Party poopers," I grumbled. "What, is everyone having an existential crisis or something?"

Erik turned around. "Have you ever considered that some people just don't want to die?"

That might've been the longest sentence he had said since the reaping. It was a true one, too. One that I didn't really have an answer to.

I honestly hadn't really considered the feelings of the other tributes. All that concerned me was getting home to me family. But the other tributes had families, too. They had happiness that they were ripped away from. They had lives I would have to take.

But still, I had a good reason. Oliver needed me. And I was going to win, for him. So maybe I would have to kill other people to save him. He was my brother. He meant the world to me.

It would probably scar me for life. The Hunger Games weren't made to be fun. It was the least fun game in the world.

It would be worth it. But it was going to suck.

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**Ugh, chariot chapters are so hard to write! I hope this was good, since I really don't know. What do you think of Saphron? How about Erik, my own invention? DID I MENTION I MADE A FORUM? Yes I did, but really only one person has checked it out, so find the little link on my profile and go be weird! Bye for now!**


	9. District 6: Brooklyn De'shawn

**I have returned to the wonderful world or wifi! Warning: Lots of swearing in this chapter. ****Probably too much. Credit for this tribute goes to another mysterious guest.**

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_Brooklyn De'shawn: District 6, age 16_

* * *

I woke up slightly disoriented, forgetting where I was for a moment. Who the fuck was banging on my door at this hour? Which hour? I pried open my eyes, expecting to see my regular boring old clock in my regular boring old bedroom.

Nope.

_Reality hits me like a train, it really is a pain, I don't wanna be a tribute 'cause that's just really lame... _

I once again found myself making up a rap. I grabbed the notebook I had left on the bedside table the previous night, a Capitol one with the Hunger Games logo and a few rhymes already scribbled down.

"Brooklyn! Get up!" The escort's muffled voice floated through the door, accompanied with more banging.

_So many expectations from my asshole escort; I don't wanna fucking leave this room, 'cause I—_

"BROOKLYN!"

Angrily I swung open the door, glaring at the red-faced Capitol ass in front of me. "Could you not? I am making art!"

Petros Stavros looked equally furious. "It is time to get ready for training! I've been banging on your door for ten minutes!"

"Well, I'm sorry for being inspired!" I shot back.

"Listen, kid," he seethed, "I don't know what sort of skills you've picked up in your District, but if you want to survive in the arena, you're going to have to train! So get your filthy ass showered so you can maybe have enough charm get some allies!" He marched away, grumbling, "Honestly, I always get stuck with the lousiest tributes!"

I watched the lights reflect off his bald head, wondering if I could see my reflection in it.

"Nelasha?" I noticed Petros was quite a bit more gentle towards my district partner. "Time to get up."

The door swung open moments later and Petros jumped back.

"Training?" Nelasha questioned, wearing her usual creepy grin.

_There's this girl I know, she's quite the freak show, her smile stretches miles and her teeth are white as snow. But she's not ordinary, she's really quite scary, the fangs on her teeth make her grin much less merry. _

I was quite satisfied with this rhyme, and rapidly wrote it down while breakfast arrived.

"Brooklyn, Nelasha, I want you two teaming up," Petros announced.

"Uh, why?" I inquired. That might've been the dumbest idea he had had yet.

"Because you need an alliance if you want to survive."

I rolled my eyes. "I'll think about it." As in, no. I was not going with my freak district partner, who was currently staring at me with her left eye twitching.

"Your skin looks lovely," she whispered. "I can't wait to try it on."

I rose from my seat so quickly I banged my legs. "I think I'll go get dressed." I tried to say it in a cool, casual way, but my voice quavered a bit. That girl was creepy as hell.

"It was a joke!" I heard her protest as I closed the door. What kind of fucked up joke was that?

I had a quick overly-luxurious shower, then rummaged around for some clothes. It seemed that my only option was some boring training clothes, which I reluctantly slipped on. They were a regular shade of black, with short sleeves and blue stripes here and there. A pale blue 6 was pasted on my back. Not exactly what was in style in my district, but it was skintight in a way that could be sexy.

I emerged at the same time as Nelasha, who smiled at me and licked her lips. "Lookin' good, _ally_."

I didn't respond, only hurried towards the elevator.

"Don't mess up your first impressions!" I heard Petros call.

We must've been running a bit late, since the elevator only stopped for one person, a tall guy with a 4 on his back. Upon closer inspection, I recognized him as the guy who some career blew up at. Probably a good potential ally, seeing as his muscles were big.

Nelasha was licking her lips at him, so I shot her a look that hopefully said, _Mine. _

I sauntered over to the Four boy, not putting too much effort into looking cool. That just came naturally to me. "Hey. Brooklyn De'shawn, District Six."

He glanced at me warily. "Danan Zacharia, District Four."

"Mutation?" I tried.

"What's it to you?"

"You look like you're hoping for an alliance." The doors opened, and I matched his pace smoothly. "I might be able to supply that."

My so far successful conversation was interrupted by a peacekeeper with her helmet off, attempting to get everyone's attention.

"Now that you're all here..." She glared pointedly at me. Of course I was late. That was how I rolled. "...allow me to explain training. I'm sure you have it figured out, but I have to go over it anyway. Over here we have the weapons area..."

I tuned out, instead searching for my potential ally, who had slipped away from me at some point. I found him at the opposite edge of the crowd, next to a skinny redhead boy.

By the time I had casually shuffled over, the peacekeeper had finished her tour and the tributes were dispersing.

I got right to the point. "As I was saying, wanna be allies?"

"Are you with her?" Danan jerked his head towards Nelasha, who was making quick work of demolishing a dummy with her teeth.

"Hell no."

"Then sure, if you're alright with teaming up with Olin." He gestured towards the redhead boy.

_What a wimp._ "Alright."

Olin dragged his brown gaze off the floor to meet mine. "If you really think I'm a wimp, I can leave."

"Woah, what?" I blurted. _I didn't say that out loud, did I? _

"You didn't, I can just read minds." He offered a small smile.

"That could be useful, right Brooklyn?" Danan nudged me hopefully.

"I guess," I said. "Speaking of which, you never told me your mutation, _ally._"

"Oh, right. Watch." Danan held out his hand, and some sort of weird-ass rock started growing off it. "It's kinda like armour."

"Cool," I offered. It was nice for him, but it wouldn't do much good in protecting me.

"How about you?" questioned the Four boy. "What's your mutation?"

"X-ray vision," I announced. "It's not that useful, but good for peeping on girls."

"You're disgusting," chuckled Danan, giving me a shove.

"I could look at your penis right now if I wanted to."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to?"

"Shut up," I laughed. "I have a girlfriend."

I had a feeling we were going to get along just fine. We were already making fun of each other like I did with my friends in Six. I couldn't wait to get back home.

I glanced at Olin, who was staring off into the distance. "You're awfully quiet."

"The Twelve boy," he murmured. "I can't get him out of my mind."

"What, are you in love with him or something?" I joked.

"He's reading his thoughts, you idiot!" said Danan.

"He wants to join us," announced Olin, "He wants an alliance but he's not sure how to ask."

"Well, do your mind reading abilities tell us if he's an asset?" I questioned.

"I-I don't know," he stammered, looking ashamed. "He wasn't thinking about it. Can he join us, Danan?"

"Since when was Danan the leader of this alliance?" I scoffed. "I say strength in numbers. Hey, kid!" I yelled at the boy.

"His name is Ashton," Olin quietly informed me.

"Ashton!"

Said tribute turned to face me, looking startled. I motioned for him to come over. He walked towards me, a confused expression on his face.

Ashton had the typical District Twelve look; black hair, grey eyes, and olive skin. He was short and skinny, but didn't look half as wimpy as Olin did.

"Wanna join our alliance?"

He was clearly shocked by my invitation. "Uhh... Sure? I mean, yes! Yes, absolutely! Thanks!" His demeanour quickly changed from perplexed to enthusiastic.

We introduced ourselves before choosing the survival station to train in first. I made up a rap as I struggled to make a fire.

_Twelve, Six, Four, and Three. This is the alliance for me. Mind-reading, rock-armour, and superspeed; teaming with these guys I did a good deed. _

I frowned. This sounded more like a skip rope rhyme than a Hunger Games rap. I would have to work on that later.

Ugh, the Hunger Games. Such a nuisance, only in the way of getting me to my destiny as a famous rapper. Perhaps surviving a death match would help with publicity, but surviving was the key word in that.

_Twelve, Six, Four, and Three. We're The Boys, but I'll have to use them to save me. _

**And there you have Brooklyn! I hope you liked this chapter. Please review so we can get to 50! What did you think of Brooklyn and the other Boys? How about psycho-of-the-year Nelasha? Thanks so much for reading!**


	10. District 5: Lecity Harcrodden

**I apologize for the lateness; as it is with most authors school starting has slowed me down. B****ut I was also doing some planning for this story, which makes me very excited for the games to begin, which will hopefully mean faster updates. Thank you, rosereddreams95, for submitting Lecity!**

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_Lecity Harcrodden: District 5, age 14_

* * *

When your days are numbered, a week flies by very fast.

It was already the final day of training. We only had a h

alf day before it would be time for the evaluations. I was crouched at the shelter station, where I spent most of my time, stuffing moss into the gaps of my lean-to's walls.

The alliances had formed fast. Almost immediately after training had begun, four boys had banded together, filling the room with noisy banter. The careers were a given, but I was surprised to see the boy from Eight among them.

On the second day of training three younger tributes joined forces, calling themselves The NET, for Nine, Eleven, Ten. In my opinion, they should have been called WAS, putting together Wolf, Ardelia, and Sparrow, since a group without someone older was as good as dead.

I had thought that was it; for days nobody else had approached one another. But at the end of the sixth day three more tributes had tentatively come together: Culata from Eight, Truen from Ten, and my own district partner, Bryan. The trio was fairly quiet, but I could tell they were sticking together because they knew they wouldn't survive on their own.

I was the only one at the shelter station—people tended to avoid me— but I could hear the conversation from the camouflage area, where the NET were making no efforts to blend in to the artificial environment. They instead were engaging in an oh-so-important debate about whose mutations were the "coolest".

"I mean, come on!" Wolf was saying. "Who has ever heard of Animation before? It's unique, therefore cool."

"Biokinesis is unique!" Sparrow objected.

"But nobody can even spell it," the Nine boy pointed out.

"Who cares? I'm powerful! I can control plant life, animals, and less intelligent intelligent humans such as yourself." Sparrow gestured to Wolf, who sat up a bit taller.

"Hey! I am wounded." He dramatically out a hand to his chest. "You should learn to respect your elders!"

"Elders? We're both fourteen!" the Eleven girl argued.

"Well, I'm older than Ardelia..."

"When's your guys' birthdays?" the mentioned twelve year-old questioned.

"Seven-seven," Wolf answered. "July seventh."

Sparrow smirked. "June twenty-sixth! So there, _youngster!_"

"Oh, come on! That's not even a month!" he protested.

"I'm still older, therefore my powers are the best!"

"Are we forgetting someone?" Ardelia spoke up, looking like she was about to lean on the wall before pushing her hand straight through it.

"Sure, you can run through walls," said Wolf, "but Animation is still the coolest!"

I tuned out of the bickering with a sigh. Alright, I was a little bit jealous. All these kids had amazing powers, while I just looked freakish. How did I even qualify? I wished I hadn't. Then I could go home, as unwelcoming as it was. Anything was better than participating in a death match.

I twisted around to watch two of the Boys sparring with long sticks. The Four boy—Danan—was pretty skilled, swiftly knocking the stick out of the Six boy's hands. I struggled to remember the name of the boy as he took a long swig of water. Bradley? Shawn?

_Brooklyn De'Shawn. _

The name flooded back to my brain, and satisfied, I turned back to my shelter. I always tried to keep tabs on names and districts. Better to know the competition.

The sound of someone approaching cause me to turn around, and I spotted Ashton Noir from Twelve coming my way. Bracing myself for some wonderful human interaction, I returned my attention to my lean-to.

He sat down next to me, shifting to find a comfortable position on the cement. "So, building a shelter?"

Naturally, I didn't respond.

"Yeah, me too." He grabbed some sticks and attempted to turn them into something useful. "I see you here a lot... This a hobby or something?" He chuckled a bit before his precarious stack came tumbling down. "Wanna maybe show me how it's done?"

I didn't answer. I never did. What could I, Lecity Harcrodden, possibly have to say that was worth listening to?

Ashton cleared his throat. "Any, uh, shelter pointers?"

I gritted my teeth. I wasn't going to say anything. I never would. But I had a feeling this guy wasn't about to leave. Giving a tiny sigh, I grabbed a handful of sticks and got him started on a simple structure.

"Hey, thanks!" He seemed impressed that I had actually acknowledged his existence.

Don't worry, Ashton, that's all you get.

"I'm Ashton." _I know. _"And you are...?" He leaned in expectantly, but I had no good reason to speak to him, so I didn't. Sure, I'd talk at the interviews because I would have to, but I definitely wasn't what you would call the conversational type.

"Ashton! You coming?" called one of the Twelve boy's allies as he grabbed a bow.

"Yep!" He glanced at me with a friendly smile. "See ya later!"

I sighed in relief as he walked away. Why didn't people get that I just wanted to be left alone?

In my frustration I slapped some moss on the roof a bit too hard, and the shelter caved in on itself. Down with it went my hopes. The whole death match thing looming over my head like a rain cloud finally came down on me; the raindrops of reality forcing me to emerge from my state of numb denial.

Tears pooled in my eyes and I did my best to hold them back as the single truth echoed in my head.

_I'm going to die. _

**I'm aware this isn't my best chapter. In my defence, I was pretty uninspired but I just wanted to get it out before I was really late. On the bright side, only four more chapters until the games start! I love reviews! What do you think of Lecity? The alliances that have formed. My mediocre writing in this chapter? Thanks for reading, and please bring me to 50 reviews so I feel mildly successful!**


	11. The quitting AN that's much too popular

**And another one bites the dust. I hate to be that author, since so many are popping up nowadays, but I have to quit FanFiction for personal reasons. Please understand how hard this is for me, since I love it here. But I will do my best to never come back. **

**That being said, I'm putting my stories up for adoption. Details are on my profile. **

**If I have any readers left after my ridiculously slow updates, thanks for reading. Bye. **


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